


Je Porte le Coeur de mon Loup

by thegirlwhoknits



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Barebacking, Discussion of mpreg, Guilt, Jealousy, M/M, Marking, eventual happy ending i promise, it doesn't get beyond a forced kiss, putting Peter through the wringer for a change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-06 23:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1876887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwhoknits/pseuds/thegirlwhoknits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After dating for two years, Peter is finally ready to propose to Stiles. But when he comes home from preparing his engagement gift, he finds Stiles making out with a stranger outside of Jungle.  Will Peter's assumptions cost him everything?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nezstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezstorm/gifts).



> So I told nezstorm I wouldn't post this in chapters, but it turns out I'm a lying liar who lies. This story break was too good to pass up. Sorry not sorry!

Peter caressed the velvet box lying on the seat next to him as he drove into Beacon Hills. He’d been working with an artisan in L.A. on the contents of it for the past four days, fine-tuning the design he’d sent him months before. Now it was finally ready to present it to Stiles—but he wasn’t quite sure _he_ was ready.

He and Stiles had been dating for two years, since shortly after the _nogitsune_ was defeated.  Stiles had turned to Peter, as the only person in the Pack who could understand his feelings, and in return Peter had found someone who finally accepted him as he was, without judgment. And eventually, with love.

Their announcement to the Pack about their dating had gone about as well as could be expected, and far better than Peter had feared, to be honest.  Derek and Scott were the hardest sells—Peter suspected that Derek harbored some feelings for Stiles himself, and couldn’t quite suppress a smug smile that he’d been the one to land such a desirable mate.

Only he hadn’t _quite_ landed him…yet.  Stiles was still living at his father’s house while he took Criminal Justice classes at the local college and studied to be Emissary to the McCall Pack under Deaton.  They hadn’t seriously discussed the prospect of living together; largely because Peter was nervous about pushing for more commitment, in case Stiles finally woke up and realized all that he would be missing, committing to a damaged, older werewolf.  He knew Stiles loved him, but he was bright and young, and not the awkward, gawky teenager he had been.  Peter noticed the attention he attracted wherever they went, even if his lover missed it.

Finally he’d decided it was time to make his intentions clear, before one of those other prospects lured Stiles away.  He was going to ask Stiles to be his mate, officially. To share a den, and a life together. The box on the passenger seat contained a mating gift, a leather bracelet with a silver spiral that read, “ _Je porte le coeur de mon loup.”_   Two silver rings, each decorated with oak leaves and a full moon, would arrive later.  He was going to propose tonight.

Peter felt like he might throw up.  He focused on the radio as he entered Beacon Hills and headed for the sheriff’s house, humming along to the classic rock station and tapping his foot restlessly.  The police cruiser was in the driveway, but Stiles’ Jeep wasn’t. He was probably out doing something with the Pack.  The sheriff would know where they were; since he’d been made aware of the supernatural threats in town he insisted on at least being kept apprised of the Pack’s plans, if not included in them.

John answered the door in a pair of sweatpants and a worn t-shirt.  He looked guilty when Peter raised an eyebrow at the smell of salt-and-vinegar potato chips clinging to him. “I won’t tell if you won’t?”

Peter weighed the advantages of winning points with his father-in-law versus his boyfriend’s ire if he found out. “I won’t tell if he doesn’t ask,” he compromised.

John nodded. “Fair enough.  Stiles is out with the Pack at Jungle, did you want to come in and wait?”

“No thanks, I’ll see if I can catch up with him there.  Would you mind hanging on to this for me?” Peter held out the box with the bracelet in it, and the sheriff raised his eyebrow.  Peter fought the urge to drop his head and blush like a teenager.

“Finally going to pop the question then?” John asked, an approving note in his voice.  “He’s going to say yes, you know.  I’ve caught him discussing the finer points of wedding planning with Lydia more than once, and she’s certainly not at that stage with her latest boy-toy.”

Peter couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face.  “I hope so.  But Jungle certainly isn’t the right place to propose, and I don’t want to leave it in the car or waste time going home.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Stiles’ father said as he took the box.  “I’ll keep it safe for you. Now go on and catch up with my son, he’s been missing you.”

~

Peter could hear the thumping music of the club from over a block away.  He didn’t much care for Jungle; the loud music and crush of smells were a bit overwhelming to his werewolf senses.  Still, he and Stiles came occasionally, both alone and with the Pack.  Peter wasn’t thrilled about the idea of his lover wading through that sea of hands and hormones without him.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, he didn’t notice his surroundings until he passed by the mouth of the alley to one side of the club and was assaulted by Stiles’ scent, overlaid heavily with arousal.  The wet sound of kissing and a muffled groan followed as he turned on his heel and stood frozen.  Stiles was pressed up against the brick of the club, his hands pinned over his head while a strange man kissed him thoroughly. The younger man’s hips thrust up ineffectually, and Peter felt a flash of rage as he started forward. He’d been gone _four days_ , laboring over an _engagement gift,_ and Stiles paid him back by taking the first opportunity to cheat on him with some stranger from a club?

Before he’d taken two steps, though, that thought was wiped from his head as he picked up the scent of panic and revulsion coming from his lover.  Of course Stiles wasn’t cheating on him — his goddamn danger-magnet of a boyfriend was being assaulted.  He surged forward with a furious roar, batting the offender — _werewolf, omega,_ his mind supplied — against the opposite wall with a single swipe. Sparing a glance at Stiles to make sure he was unharmed, he bent down and casually slit the omega’s throat.

Stiles was still slumped against the brick, wide-eyed and gasping, when Peter turned. He reached out a shaking hand to Peter, and the werewolf felt a sinking shame in his gut.  How had he actually believed, even for a moment, that his lover would cheat on him? And what would have happened if he’d walked away instead of going for a confrontation?  He’d almost left Stiles alone with a rapist, because of his own insecurity.

He let out a pained growl, turned away from Stiles, and _ran._


	2. Chapter 2

Scott dropped down into the alley, landing with a soft grunt in front of his stunned friend.  “What the hell was that about?”

“I…I don’t know,” Stiles answered, still staring out into the street after Peter. “He just showed up, clawed the rogue omega to death, and then _left._ ”

“I was actually talking about how the werewolf stalker we thought wanted to kidnap you decided to molest you instead, _not_ your weird boyfriend, but okay.” Scott sounded amused, a luxury they could afford now that the werewolf in question was dead.

Stiles turned a wild-eyed look on him, and Scott reconsidered his good mood. “He _ran away._ Why the hell did he run away? He can’t seriously, actually think I was cheating on him.” He surged to his feet and pushed away from the wall, beginning to pace up and down the filthy pavement.  “Because a: he should know I would never do that, and b: if that’s what he thinks is an appropriate way of dealing with a guy I’m cheating with, we clearly need to have another talk about acceptable reasons for homicide and oh my GOD my dad can never know I said that.”

Scott grabbed his best friend’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “Stiles. Calm down. We have no idea what Peter was actually thinking, and panicking and jumping to conclusions isn’t going to help anything. Now take a couple of deep breaths, clear your head, and we’ll go find Peter and ask him what’s going on directly, _without_ making assumptions.”

Blinking at him, Stiles took the requested deep breaths and then exhaled heavily, slumping against him.  “You’re right. Since when do you get to be so level-headed?”

Scott hugged him tightly and then smirked at him. “Well, I _am_ the Alpha now.”

Stiles groaned.

~

Scott’s plan had been good in theory, but it quickly unraveled, along with Stiles’ patience, when they couldn’t find Peter anywhere.

“He couldn’t have left town,” Scott argued. “His car is still parked over near the club.”

“Well, he’s not at his apartment, he’s not at the loft, and my dad hasn’t heard from him since he came by looking for me earlier. And of course he’s not answering any of my calls or texts.” Stiles growled in frustration, banging his fist against the side of his Jeep.  Scott knew he was really angry then; normally Stiles would never hurt his baby like that.

He laid a hand on Stiles’ shoulder comfortingly.  “Peter loves you, man. I’m sure he doesn’t really believe you were cheating on him. Give him some time to work through whatever’s going on in his head, and he’ll come back.”

Stiles wilted. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right. We’re going to have a serious fucking talk when he does, though.”  He scowled.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter had fled almost ten miles into the Preserve before he slowed to a stop. His feet had carried him of their own will to a place he hadn’t been to in decades—a cave in the woods that had been his refuge when he was a sulky teenager at odds with his Alpha sister.  He shed his clothes, folding them neatly on a boulder — no matter how upset he was, there was no point in ruining a perfectly good pair of jeans — before shifting into full wolf form.

Scott or Derek could track him here, of course; he’d been too frantic to bother covering up his scent. But if he knew Stiles, he’d let Peter stew for a couple of days before confronting him. So he had some time to figure out what the hell he was going to do next.

 _If I know Stiles,_ he thought bitterly. He _did_ know Stiles, knew his impetuous lover inside and out: all his quirks, habits, likes and dislikes. Knew, first-hand, how loyal and self-sacrificing Stiles was.  That he could think, even for a second, even if Stiles had been _naked_ in that alley with the other wolf, that the younger man was cheating on him, spoke more of Peter’s own insecurities than his lover’s faithfulness.  Not that it mattered. _Either way, he could have ended up raped or dead, and it would be my fault._

Somehow that imagined outcome made him feel more profoundly guilty than any of the actual murders he’d committed.  He knew, intellectually, that he didn’t deserve Stiles, but here was concrete evidence.  If the situation were reversed, Stiles would never have assumed the same of Peter.  Not that he viewed the werewolf through rose-tinted glasses; he knew exactly what Peter was capable of, had witnessed him at his best and at his absolute worst.  But he knew, had to know, that for Peter he was _it._

But as loyal as Stiles was, the same didn’t have to be true for him. He was young, and human. If Peter disappeared off the face of the earth, Stiles would eventually move on, probably to someone whole and healthy. He deserved that chance, rather than being shackled to Peter, to someone too damaged to fully trust their bond.  The only problem was, Peter wasn’t sure he was strong enough to walk away.

Tired of letting his mind run in circles, Peter ran off into the woods to hunt. At least chasing deer and rabbits would give him something else to focus on.

~

It took forty-eight hours for Stiles to well and truly lose his patience.  After spending the first twelve completely sleepless, pacing up and down his room until his father told him to knock it off and get some sleep, he’d gone to Peter’s place to wait for him there.  He finally fell asleep in Peter’s bed, his face buried in the werewolf’s pillow.  When he woke from dreams that made his heart ache, the apartment was still dismally empty.

He paced some more. Cleaned the already spotless kitchen from top to bottom. Re-organized Peter’s alarming collection of skin and hair-care products, giving serious thought to switching some of the labels.  He also thought about switching Peter’s coffee to decaf, but decided that would ultimately hurt him more than Peter.

Around thirty-six hours he started throwing things.

By hour forty, half of Peter’s clothes were in various states of ruin.

Finally, at the end of the second day, surrounded by books, torn t-shirts, and shattered glass, he called Scott.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter was in the middle of ripping apart a rabbit when he heard Stiles and Scott approach.  He thought about running, but Stiles deserved an explanation, and he couldn’t run from that forever.  Also he was hungry.  When the two of them reached the mouth of the cave, he stared at Scott and growled.

Scott held his hands up and back away, telling Stiles, “I’ll give you two some space. Text me if you need anything.”

Instead of turning back to his meal, Peter laid his head back down on his paws, refusing to look at his lover.  Stiles didn’t say anything either. He sat down next to the wolf and started drawing meaningless shapes in the dirt.

“You’ve got blood on your muzzle,” he said finally.  Peter huffed and rolled his eyes upward.  His boyfriend reached out tentatively and scratched him behind the ears.  “Come home, Peter.”

He leaned into the touch for a moment before getting up and pacing deeper into the cave, stopping at the boulder with his clothes on it. 

Stiles chuckled.  “Oh, that’s the way we’re going to play this?  You’d better not get any blood in my Jeep.”  He picked up Peter’s clothes and followed him out of the cave.

They walked in silence back to Stiles’ car, and stayed that way during the drive. He wasn’t in the mood for a one-sided conversation with the wolf, especially when he felt it was Peter who owed him an explanation.  He hadn’t done anything wrong; it was his boyfriend who’d slashed a guy’s throat and ran off without a word.  A plaintive whine from the passenger seat told him he’d said that out loud after all.

“Well it’s true.  What the hell, Peter, you can’t possibly have thought I was trying to fuck that guy.” 

Peter just buried his head in his paws for the rest of the drive.  As soon as Stiles opened the door to the apartment, he took his clothes gently in his mouth and headed straight for the bathroom.  The sound of the shower told Stiles his boyfriend had returned to his human form.  He started half-heartedly picking up the mess while he waited.

“Only Peter can be such an inconsiderate jackass even when he knows he’s in the wrong,” he grumbled.

“I have been a jackass,” Peter said from the doorway, making Stiles jump.  “I’ve… Well, I’ve pretty much always been a jackass.  And I’ll probably continue to be one.  I know you weren’t cheating on me,” he added.

“Then why the _hell_ did you run away?” Stiles finally allowed himself to yell. “Why did you just leave me there, thinking you hated me, thinking you’d gone away for good?” He choked on the last words, a tear sliding down his cheek.

Peter didn’t move from the doorway.  “Because for a second, I _did_ think you were trying to fuck him,” he said quietly.  “And know you wouldn’t do that, I do, but if I’d walked away then, if I’d fought the urge to confront you, you could have been raped.  Or _dead._ ”  His fists were clenched tightly, his claws obviously out. Slow drops of blood began to drip onto the carpet.

Surging forward, Stiles closed the distance between them and cupped his lover’s face in his hands, forcing Peter to look at him. “Nothing was gonna happen to me, Peter. That omega had been stalking me for days, that was a trap for him. Scott and the Pack were all around; they were just surprised when he kissed me instead of trying to kidnap or kill me.  Apparently I’m werewolf-nip.  And then you came along and defended my honor,” he said wryly.

“I’m a stupid, insecure bastard,” Peter insisted stubbornly.

“Yeah you are,” Stiles agreed. “But you’re mine. Now help me pick this mess up and I’ll order us some takeout. My treat, since I interrupted your meal.”

Peter huffed, but pushed himself away from the doorframe and began to gather up paperbacks from the floor.  After a few minutes of working in silence, they began to bicker companionably, the werewolf bitching about Stiles’ treatment of his belongings, and Stiles in turn defending his right to an epic freak-out.  When they reached the bedroom, however, he shrank under the force of Peter’s glare.

“Yeah, okay, that might have been a step too far,” he admitted, toeing a ripped piece of fabric.  Peter raised an eyebrow and continued glaring.  “I’ll take you shopping?”

Snorting, Peter tossed a balled-up wad of denim at him. “You couldn’t afford to take me shopping. But you _can_ accompany me. And hold my bags.”

Stiles sputtered. “But you’re a werewolf! It’s not like they’re going to be too heavy for you!”

Peter just smirked and handed him a trash bag, gesturing for him to get started picking up.

Working together, they got the apartment back in fair order in less than an hour. Stiles ordered them Chinese, and when it came they flopped next to each other on the couch, aimlessly watching TV while they traded cartons.  Stiles migrated closer and closer until he was practically in Peter’s lap, and gradually there was less eating and more snuggling.  Peter stroked Stiles’ hair, and the younger man wriggled happily into the touch, some of the tension of the past few days finally draining out of him.  His body reminded him that he hadn’t really slept in the last few days, and his eyelids started drifting shut.

He was half-aware of Peter shifting him over and pressing a kiss to his forehead, before the _click_ of the door shutting startled him completely awake.  Peter was gone.

_“Shit.”_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for bearing with me through all of this!!! I really loved writing this story, and I hope you liked reading it too. I would really really love your comments, and if you're interested you can also follow me on [Tumblr](bitchinachinashop.tumblr.com).

Trying to stay calm, Stiles tried texting Peter first.  His phone vibrated on the charging stand next to the door. Peter _never_ forgot his phone, even if he didn’t always answer it.  Still, it was starting to get light out; maybe he'd just walked down to the corner to get them some breakfast.  He peered out the window into the parking lot. Nope, Peter’s car was gone.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ C’mon, Peter, don’t do this to me.”  He wasn’t going to waste any time this time — juggling his cell phone while he pulled on his pants, he called Scott.

“Mmmph. Stiles? What’s wrong?” his best friend answered, clearly not awake.

“He left again Scott, for real this time I think.” Stiles tried to keep the hysteria out of his voice as he hunted for his shoes and socks.

“He wouldn’t. Would he?”

“I don’t _know_ , I thought we were good, but he left while I was sleeping and he left his phone and took his car. You have to get over here _right now,_ okay, you have to get over here and track him before he gets too far.” He was hopping up and down on one foot, trying to pull on his left sock, when his phone beeped for an incoming text.  “Hang on, man, my dad’s texting me.”

_Just realized I left my phone, didn’t want to worry you. Be home in a few minutes. –Peter._

Stiles collapsed onto the sofa, the sock still hanging off his toes.  He took a deep breath and switched back over to Scott. “False alarm, man, he was over at my dad’s, I guess? Which isn’t really any less weird, but at least he didn’t take off.”

“I can call off the hit squad, then?”

“Yeah, sorry for freaking out on you there. Go back to sleep, Scotty.”

His friend grunted and hung up, and Stiles let his phone drop onto the cushion next to him.  Apparently his boyfriend didn’t have a monopoly on overreacting.  What was Peter doing over at his dad’s, though?  They got along and everything, but it was seven o’clock on a Saturday morning.  He sighed. Peter was an eternal mystery.

By the time Peter got home, he was halfway through making breakfast.  The werewolf leaned against the door frame, watching him. His hand was curled around what looked like an oversized jewelry box.

“What’s in the box?” Stiles asked curiously as he dished a helping of scrambled eggs onto a plate.  He decided not to mention his little freak-out; they’d had enough drama for one week.  “You decide to rob a jewelry store on your way back from my dad’s? What were you doing over there so early, anyway?”

“Picking up this.” Peter pushed off the door frame and stalked towards him, reaching around to shut off the gas burner.

“Should I be sitting down for this?”

Peter smirked. “Only if you think you’re going to swoon. I’m not kneeling.”  He held out the box.

Stiles could feel his heart rate pick up as he flipped open the lid.  He lifted out the bracelet and stared wide-eyed at his lover. “Peter, is this…?”

“It’s a mating gift. If you want it.”

“Of course I want it.” He traced the words around the spiral with his fingers. “ _Je porte le coeur de mon loup._ I carry…the heart of my wolf?” Stiles looked up at him for confirmation.

“Your French is improving,” Peter said warmly.  “There are rings to go with it, if you wanted to do a traditional ceremony as well.”

Stepping closer, Stiles looked up at him through his lashes flirtatiously. “And what do _you_ want?”

Peter growled softly. “I want you to say yes.  I want us to move in together. I want to mark you in every way I can, so that everyone knows you’re _my_ mate. And I want to haul you into _our_ bedroom and fuck you senseless.  Not necessarily in that order.”

“Hmm… Let me think,” Stiles started, but when Peter raised an eyebrow he flung his arms around the werewolf’s neck. “Yes, yes to all of that, but we should definitely start with that last one.”

~

Peter picked up his boyfriend — his _mate_ — and carried him into the bedroom bridal-style, ignoring Stiles’ indignant squawk. Laying him on the bed almost gently, he braced himself over his lover. Stiles looked up at him, affection in his whiskey-brown eyes.

“You worried me, Peter,” he said quietly.

Peter said nothing, just held his gaze and leaned in, very slowly, and kissed him.  It was a deep, possessive kiss; he pressed his body against Stiles’ as though he was trying to join them together forever.  Grabbing both of Stiles’ slender wrists in one hand, he pushed them into the mattress above the younger man’s head.  His lover responded with a short nod to the unspoken command that he keep them there, and Peter moved on to the serious business of claiming his mate.

All that creamy, mole-studded skin begged to be marked, and Peter was ever happy to oblige, but he’d always kept himself from lingering too long on his Stiles’ beautiful neck. He hadn’t trusted himself not to turn a simple hickey into a mating bite.  Now that Stiles had accepted his gift, there was nothing holding him back.  There would be a ceremony for the humans and the rest of the Pack—a lavish, Lydia Martin-planned one, he was sure—but this was the act that really mattered. First, though, he was going to make his mate beg.

The things he liked best about Stiles were his intelligence, courage, and ferocity.  His lover did everything on his own terms; he’d even instigated their relationship.  So Peter knew that, werewolf strength or not, when Stiles submitted to him like this, it was because he wanted to.  Because he loved the way Peter took him apart, made his busy mind shut down.  And every once in a while, the werewolf allowed him to return the favor—an occasion he always rose to beautifully.

Right now he followed the graceful curve of Stiles’ collarbone, sucking small marks that bloomed a beautiful purple against the pale skin, like a necklace.  The younger man moaned and squirmed a little as Peter began working his way up the column of his throat, which he bared shamelessly, his head thrown back among the pillows.  As he moved down the side of his mate’s neck, he began interspersing the marks with little nips, warning of the more serious bite to come.  Reaching the junction of Stiles’ neck and shoulder, Peter paused and pulled away slightly.

“Mine,” he growled, grinding his cock down against his lover’s.

“Yours,” Stiles gasped. “Yes, Peter, please.”

But instead of biting down right away, he pulled back, rifling around in the nightstand and coming back with his fingers slick with lube.  He dropped light kisses down his lover’s chest as he circled Stiles’ hole lightly with a fingertip.  Stiles gasped, and Peter could feel the strain in his thighs as he fought not to buck up against him.  He transferred his attention to the younger man’s hipbones, sucking dark marks all the way down to the base of his cock.  Finally, just as he slid his finger inside, he took Stiles into his mouth, caressing his mate’s hard, hot length with his tongue.

This time Stiles failed utterly to keep himself from thrusting.  “Oh god, Peter, god yes, that feels so good, please…” he babbled, in between a kind of breathless keening, as he fucked Peter’s mouth.  Peter pulled off slightly as he added another finger, and his lover whined.

“Oh god Peter, want you inside me.  Need you filling me, make me yours.” His mate’s words made him feel a little light-headed, and his cock throbbed.

“Stiles…” he groaned, slipping one more finger inside him gently and dropping feather-light kisses on his cock.  Finally he pulled free completely, reaching up the bed for the unopened box of condoms he’d bought for the occasion.  Stiles snatched them before he could, and held them out of reach.

“Stiles,” he said patiently. “You know that with the mating bite comes the possibility of pregnancy. We’re going to have to use those now until we’re ready for cubs.”

His mate's face set into the stubborn expression that told Peter he wasn’t going to be swayed. “I know that.  I also know that the chance of pregnancy is almost non-existent until the first full moon, when it’s had a chance to set. And if it does happen…” He met Peter’s gaze, and the werewolf could almost swear that Stiles’ amber eyes glowed with love. “…I wouldn’t exactly mind,” he finished shyly.

That was all Peter could take. “You’re taking the blame from Lydia if you don’t fit into whatever outfit she wants you to wear,” he said. Stiles nodded frantically.  Without waiting for more begging, Peter eased his way into his mate, throwing his head back and groaning at the perfect feeling of his mate surrounding him. “God Stiles, you feel so wonderful. So good for me.”

His mate gave a sharp little cry of pleasure as Peter thrust in deeper, then began to pant as the werewolf started fucking him in earnest.  They’d invested early on in a sturdy bed; the last one had nearly broken during their first attempt at bondage.  This one barely rocked as Peter pounded into his lover, Stiles grasping at the sheets for leverage as he rocked back against him, trying to drive Peter’s dick even deeper.

“Love to have you inside me,” he gasped.  “Nothing else feels so good; always want you fucking me, coming inside me.  Bite me, Peter, claim me.  Want to be yours completely.”

Peter’s growl was almost a roar as he bent forward, wrapping a still-slick hand around Stiles’ cock as his fangs grew.  In time with a savage thrust, he bit deeply into the join of his mate’s neck, Stiles’ sweet blood flooding his mouth. Stiles screamed in a mixture of pain and ecstasy, and his come spilled out over Peter’s hand.  Lapping gently at the wound, the werewolf pounded into him a few more times before coming deep inside him.  Inside his _mate_ , who was now his forever.

~

Stiles was not actually pregnant for their Pack wedding, a fact that probably saved them from evisceration by Lydia.  They had, however, discussed the possibility of trying for cubs after the honeymoon was over.

The event wasn’t as over the top as Peter had feared; tasteful white flowers decorated the lawn of the newly rebuilt Hale house, and the guest list was confined to Pack and immediate family.  A live band played at werewolf-friendly levels during the reception, and Stiles leaned against him for much of it, watching the Sheriff and Melissa dance together to almost every song.

“I’m glad you didn’t run away,” Stiles whispered in his ear after coaxing him into a slow dance.

“So am I,” Peter admitted.  “I can't imagine any better place to be.”


End file.
